


Your words (to my soul)

by Sylencia



Series: The Boss' sweetheart [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Imprisonment, Letters, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prison, guest appearance of hashirama from afar, itama is terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20362123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylencia/pseuds/Sylencia
Summary: Tobirama couldn't resist when he saw that ad about the new correspondence program in Konoha's federal program and signed up immediately. He hadn't imagined his pen pal would become so important to him.





	Your words (to my soul)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the prison/mafia au no one asked for! Don't ask where it comes from, I have no idea. It just happened.

Tobirama hadn't known what he was supposed to expect when he started with this. He had been curious, really, the kind of curiosity that brought him troubles before and he did his best to ignore it, at first. Ignore that article in the only non-scientific magazine he sometimes read. The one talking about that new program they wanted to try in the Konoha's federal prison, to give the prisoners the chance to communicate with the outside world, to have pen pals outside the high walls surrounding their life. To be able to exchange with someone else, to distract them from their current situation.  
  
Of course Tobirama had been curious. How wouldn't have he ?  
  
He applied. He checked the program’s website, filled the form, thinking he wouldn’t be chosen for this. Surely, there would be a lot of volunteers and the people managing the program would have to choose, and eliminate some profiles. His wasn't quite simple, after all. A chemist with two PhD and a personal lab, it could be dangerous, some prisoners might see an opportunity in him. They might try to manipulate him to use his many talents.  
  
But Tobirama received a positive answer. The people in charge of the program contacted him, they interviewed him lengthly, he passed several personality tests and had to sign several confidentiality forms as well as authorizations for the program's employees to read each and every letter he might exchange with the person he would be paired with.  
  
Three years later, Tobirama deposited a letter twice a week in the specially set up letterbox at the prison's reception desk, as it was on his way to his lab, receiving Madara’s right at his home.  
  
To say he and Madara hooked up well was an understatement. Madara had been the one writing first, the program had asked him to write a general letter to introduce himself to his potential pals, talking about his life and, as the rules stated, the reasons why he was in jail and for how long. Tobirama had read his letter among the many others from the many prisoners taking part in the program and immediately felt like he and Madara could go well together.  
  
A good first impression, really. Even if the man was in jail. And would remain there for years after the program started.  
  
But from Madara's very first personal letter, Tobirama had known the two of them would share something special. For Madara was highly educated, his handwriting delicate and smooth, his words sometimes harsh could turn beautiful when he wrote about the things he loved in life. An intelligent man, with taste in art, literature, cinema. With a simpleness, still, as they sometimes spoke of mundane things, like how bored Madara could get in his cell, how he craved to be free again, how he missed his brothers and his cats.  
  
Feelings Tobirama related to, sometimes. And chatting with Madara, even through letters, was a pleasure.  
  
What Tobirama hadn't expected, were the gifts. It had started innocently, with Tobirama stating that his old laptop was giving up on him. Which was totally fine, as he had saved up the files on a hard drive and was comfortable enough when it came to money to buy himself a new one. That he was only waiting for that new generation of microchip to be commercialized in order to buy these, rather than the old ones. And he still had his work dedicated laptop to work on anyways.  
  
Two days later, a delivery man had knocked at his door, given him one big cardbox and stated it was his order. An order he never placed. He didn’t know the address on the waybill, and it wasn’t even from the country, it had come via plane to Konoha. To be delivered to him. Without a reason.  
  
Tobirama had started to suspect what was happening when he opened the package and discovered a brand new, quite expensive laptop inside. A model that wasn’t sold in the country yet, but using that exact chip he had ranted about in his last letter to Madara.  
  
He received the answers to all his questions when he found the little note, slipped between the screen and the keyboard.  
  
“_Hope you like it. M.”_  
  
Tobirama tried returning it, he tried to argue with Madara, saying it was too big a gift, that he couldn’t accept, that he could pay for it when it’d be commercialized in the country. Madara answered that it was rude to refuse a gift, and that it was a pleasure to him to offer him such a thing. That it wasn’t too high a price to be paid, for Tobirama’s time and the letters he sent. Tobirama asked Madara not to send him gifts anymore. Madara never answered to this.  
  
And he received many, many other gifts along the weeks. Smaller ones, like old dvds of movies Madara wished Tobirama had seen before, albums he wished he’d listen. Big ones, like replacement parts for his old car, precision tools for his lab.  
  
Tobirama never asked how Madara found his address, how he managed to send all these from his cell. He knew better but to question a mob’s web of acquaintances.  
  
Of course, as the program had required, Madara had told him, right from his presentation letter, what his crime had been. Illegal gamble pools, he had said. Nothing more, he hadn’t given any other detail and Tobirama had thought that it was quite harsh to lock someone up for years for something as simple as that. He and his brothers sometimes betted money on some card games, when they met and had a drink. Did it make them criminals ? Certainly not. Should someone go to prison for five years for something like this ? Absolutely not.  
  
But. Because yes, there was a but. Madara hadn’t exactly told him the truth. After he had received the laptop and because Tobirama had insisted on knowing how Madara could have done something like that, Madara had given him his full name.  
  
Madara Uchiha. Son of Tajima Uchiha, heir of his empire of legal (and illegal) casinos around the country, as well as his fortune. _The_ Uchiha family, known for their ruthlessness in affairs and the not so legal sides of them. Owning half of Konoha and ruling over the other half, close to the Mayor and the President himself, and dedicated to several charities. Madara had been caught visiting one of his father’s underground gamble tables, where the cops had infiltrated men, to gather intel about their organisation. He had stated that pleading guilty and acting as if he were sorry was good for their image. That he’d leave his cell before his time anyways.  
  
Tobirama thought about cutting ties that exact moment. It was risky, and he certainly didn’t want to be part of this. The Uchihas were feared, in Konoha, deservedly, they had ended the clan wars in a bloodbath, twenty years ago, and now were ruling over. Well. Everything. It was a well known story, in Konoha, one children told each other and parents taught them to avoid that family, Tobirama had grown up with these stories and knew he should never get involved with them.  
  
But, as always, his curiosity got the best of him. And he answered Madara and never spoke about his family, during the three years they wrote each other letters. He continued to act as if Madara was just like any other person, like the gifts he was receiving so regularly weren’t paid with dirty money, like he wasn’t feeling _too _comfortable with him, with sharing details about his life, about his dreams and his hopes.  
  
There was something between them. A connexion. A similarity in their difference that made Tobirama want to continue writing, to continue reading Madara’s answers and smile at his words and, sometimes, open his door to another delivery guy, to receive another crazy gift from a man who shouldn’t be able to send them to him. It was stupid. So very stupid, and Tobirama was aware he would regret it someday. That it would turn against him, that fuck, being linked, even through letters, to basically the next leader of the biggest mafia family to ever rule over Konoha, was the worst idea he ever had but he couldn’t help it. And he didn’t want their correspondence to stop.  
  
The prison’s envelopes paper was familiar to his fingers now, as Tobirama retrieved Madara latest letter from his mailbox. It wasn’t too thick, it didn’t seem like Madara had written much this time but Tobirama couldn’t care less. Three years, they had been chatting. It was only fair they sometimes ran dry of ideas, wasn’t it ?  
  
Tobirama didn’t open it just yet, though, setting it aside on the kitchen’s counter, retrieving his phone from where he had left it before he heard the mailman ringing his bell to announce new mail for him.  
  
“... And she said I am bisexual ! Can you believe it !?”  
  
Tobirama rolled his eyes at his older brother’s rant. Not out of distaste, really but Hashirama had been talking about that subject for the last twenty minute, not giving him a chance to say anything or answer any of his questions. The words were merely pouring out of his lips, in an unending flow of disorganized thoughts about his sexuality and his attractions, triggered by the words his ex from six years ago had told him.  
  
Everyone knew Hashirama was bisexual. Expect Hashirama himself.  
  
“We went over this before,” Tobirama grumbled, getting comfortable in his couch and closing his eyes as he placed his chin in his palm. “What she said doesn’t matter. What matters is how you feel.”  
  
“I like guys, alright ? They’re pretty!” Hashirama all but beamed from the other side of the phone and Tobirama rolled his eyes again. “You would know, you’re gay. But. I like girls more. A lot more. And I’ve never had sex with a guy so it means nothing.”  
  
Tobirama yawned.  
  
Hashirama did have a lot more boyfriends than he had girlfriends in his life. Which he didn’t want to admit.  
  
“Then what’s the matter ?” Tobirama questioned and Hashirama huffed.  
  
“I’m not bisexual.”  
  
“Alright,” Tobirama shrugged, as he always did. It wasn’t his to try and convince his brother after all. It was Hashirama’s to accept himself as he was and Tobirama would rather it happened on its own. He’d support him with all he had when it would happen, though. Of course he would. “Listen, Hashi, Itama should pop up soon. Talk to you later, right ?”  
  
“Yes!” Hashirama exclaimed, rendering him half deaf in the process. “You two have fun !”  
  
Hashirama hung up, Tobirama breathed out slowly.  
  
Tobirama barely had the time to glance at the letter waiting on his kitchen top behind him, when his front door opened, Itama inviting himself in as he always did. Not that Tobirama minded, his brothers were always welcomed. It was how they worked, each one of them had the keys to every of the others’ places and could come anytime they wanted. Which was fine. Hashirama, though, usually forgot to warn when he was coming and it created some embarrassing situations before, including him walking on Kawarama and his girlfriend getting frisky on their couch.  
  
“Tobi, I’m here,” Itama called from the hallway, as he was kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat by the door. “Do you have something to drink ?”  
  
“Check the fridge,” Tobirama answered, rubbing his face.  
  
“Is that Madara’s new letter ? Can I read it ?”  
  
Tobirama huffed. Itama was curious about this. About his correspondence with Madara, the many letters they exchanged and how many years it lasted. He often questioned him, about what they could possibly talk about, how they went along, how Tobirama felt, even, about Madara and Tobirama always answered the same thing. It was none of Itama’s concern and he should just mind his own business.  
  
“Don’t you dare,” he answered his sibling and he did smile when Itama brought him a can of coke, when Itama settled by his side. “I did tell you about the program and you refused to sign up, remember ?”  
  
Itama rolled his eyes. “With my luck, I would have ended up paired with a psycho. Not some cute guy offering me basically whatever I need in life. And what I don’t need as well.”  
  
Tobirama scoffed at that. “Try refusing Madara anything, I dare you,” he told his brother and he huffed. As if he ever asked anything from Madara. As if he ever wanted anything the man offered him so freely.  
  
“That’s what you get for being a mob’s sweetheart,” Itama teased and it was Tobirama’s turn to roll his eyes.  
  
For this had been Itama’s main way to taunt him about Madara ever since he learned about the laptop Madara had offered him. Itama kept saying that Madara had a crush on him, or, more exactly, that he was in love with him and it was why he kept offering him all these things, and why he hadn’t stopped sending letters even after three years. Lots of the prisoner pen pals had long abandoned the program and only a few of the original ones selected when it started had continued writing letters, after all.  
  
But it was stupid. Madara wasn’t in love with him. Hell, Tobirama was quite sure that all these gifts merely were a way laundry some money from his father’s casinos. Also, Madara still had a couple of years to remain in a cell, he’d grow bored of him before he left Konoha’s federal prison, there was no doubt about it.  
  
“Alright, alright,” Itama waved a hand as he sipped his can and laughed. “Don’t believe me if you don’t want to. Just don’t be surprised when he comes ask you to marry him.”  
  
Tobirama had known he should have never told his brother about it all. He regretted it so much now.  
  
Itama spent the afternoon with him. The two of them too lazy to do much, they watched a movie, they spoke about that show they both liked, about the many theories concerning the upcoming season and how the characters were supposed to evolve and what the directors had planned with them. All in all, it was a good afternoon, the kind of which Tobirama enjoyed, from times to times, when he didn’t have to think about his work or anything else. He was off duty after all. He shouldn’t be thinking about work.  
  
But he thought about Madara a lot instead. In general but especially today, as he was eager to open his new letter, to read his words, still wondering why the envelope had felt so light in his fingers. And he did just that, the moment Itama was gone, not without winking and smirking at him one last time on his way out.  
  
Tobirama’s breathing hitched in his throat when he read the simple sentence Madara had written for him, his simple words in his beautiful handwriting.  
  
“I’m out next friday.”

* * *

Tobirama didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, at all and he hadn’t answered Madara’s letter.  
  
It wasn’t easy, to think that the man he had so regularly exchanged letters with for the past three years was going to be freed so quickly. One year earlier than he should, his sentence of five years having been reduced to four, it seemed, for reasons unknown but if Tobirama could make a wild guess about it, he’d say it had something to do with Madara’s father and how close with the mayor he had seemed, lately. Not that Tobirama ever was much interested with politics, in general but he had seen the man several times on the television, sitting on a choice seat near the mayor during his speeches. The kind of things one tended to notice more, when said man was the father of the person he spoke with so much.  
  
Would Madara even want to meet him ? Hadn’t he been but a distraction for him, during all these years ? Shall he hope anything out of it, when Madara would be freed ?  
  
Hell. Tobirama didn’t want to get involved in this. He knew what it was like, the mafia. He heard enough about them from before the end of the war, about the Uchiha family and how ruthless they could be, how much blood there used to be on their hands. They did change their behavior, when the war ended, when they came out as the winning family and started to expand their power over Konoha. And Madara once half insinuated, that he and his brothers wanted to do things differently. Tobirama wasn’t sure he understood the half statement rightly, it was hard to know, Madara was smart and knew better but to give details about his business in letters his warders would read.  
  
But Tobirama was aware that he was involved already. Madara had sent him gifts, meaning he had been able to retrieve his home address, after all. And Tobirama was quite sure he had noticed a guy keeping an eye on him, once a twice. The same guy glancing at him from afar, even if acting oh so naturally. Had he been one of Madara’s men ? Someone he had sent to keep an eye on him ?  
  
Involved indeed, and kind of scared. For if he was involved, his own family was as well. His brothers, his family, his friends. Were they in danger ? He had been stupid. So stupid to not cut ties before it was too late. To not answer Madara the exact moment he had known about his name, to not tell the program’s managers he didn’t want to be part of it anymore.  
  
And yet. Yet, part of him wanted to meet with Madara. Once, at least. Face to face. See him in flesh and blood, meet the man he had written to for three years, the one who had plagued his mind for so long. Gods, he really was an idiot, wasn’t he ?  
  
He couldn’t even ask Itama’s opinion. Itama would tell him to accept, if Madara proposed.  
  
The days passed, too quickly and Tobirama couldn’t sleep. And he watched, as the minutes clicked on his alarm clock and midnight passed and friday came. His eyes were burning, he was exhausted and sore from turning and turning in his bed, a lump in the throat and too much on his mind to think straight. He shouldn’t feel like that, Tobirama was aware of it, he shouldn’t feel the panic in his guts. Why was he even panicking to begin with ? It wasn’t as if Madara had asked him to come. It wasn’t as if he had asked him to welcome him back in the free world. Did he ?  
  
But then, why tell him when he was freed, if he wasn’t expecting Tobirama to welcome him out ?  
  
No. No, Tobirama couldn’t do that. He couldn’t just take his car and park in front of the prison and wait for Madara to come out. It wasn’t his place and surely, Madara’s family would be around. Or they would send him a car. Tobirama wasn’t sure how they worked. And he didn’t want to know.  
  
He didn’t sleep at all that night. Bothered with his many thoughts and they kept drifting to Madara, again and again. To the many letters they wrote to each other, the ones Tobirama had actually sorted and put away neatly in the thick folders he kept in his desk downstairs. He sometimes enjoyed reading them again. For Madara’s beautiful handwriting and his words, and his stories. He likes to tell stories. Not about his business or what he did. Stories from his childhood, when his nanny raised he and his brothers, away from Konoha, from everything the Uchihas did. Innocent memories and beautiful places he visited too.  
  
These were Tobirama’s favorites and he had told Madara so. Madara once answered there was one place in Konoha he would love to show him.  
  
Tobirama was looking terrible. His eyes were red from the lack of sleep, highlighted with dark bags underneath them, his skin looked almost sick and his muscles ached and he decided that today would be one of these lazy, boring days at home. And he did just that, keeping his mind shut as he was watching some random television shows, half asleep and half somewhere else, until he couldn’t stay still anymore.  
  
For there was an itch, at the back of his head and the moment Tobirama thought about it, he knew he had lost that battle.  
  
He was parked in front of the prison before he could even thoroughly think about it. The main thought he should have had, being that he had no idea what hour Madara would be released and, for all he knew, he could already be out anyways, and he’d be waiting for nothing. What was he waiting for, to begin with ? It wasn’t as if Madara was going to just, strike a conversation with him and act like they were besties reunited after some years apart. It wasn’t what they were, was it ?  
  
And so, Tobirama waited, half insulting himself for being such an idiot but also glancing toward the gates often enough so his head was spinning a little, his hands moist on his thighs and his body stiff with apprehension. And he waited, a long time, until he convinced himself that he should just go, that it was foolish to be sitting here alone in his car for no reason, that he would be better at home.  
  
That was when the thick metal gate he was used to take to give his letters to the reception opened and he recognized Madara immediately.  
  
Thick long hair, dark eyes, one expensive dark blue suit and a trench wool coat he was merely wearing on his shoulders, busy slipping leather gloves on. A smile on the lips, the kind that would make a demon shiver and Hell freeze in a second, and the air of someone ready to go back to business as quickly as possible.  
  
Tobirama swallowed hard at the sight. Oh, he had known what Madara looked like, he had been curious, again and had googled his name, had stumbled on a picture of Madara and his siblings attending a charity gala together, the five of them looking straight out of a fashion magazine, dressed impeccably. But seeing him in flesh and blood was something else.  
  
Tobirama realized what a bad idea it had been to come here, when Madara merely waited a couple of second for a black berline to stop in front of him, for a man to open the door for him to climb in and disappear from his sight as quickly as he entered it. The berline took off, turned a corner and just like that, was gone. Madara didn’t notice him. He didn’t even look around for him. Probably didn’t even think he’d come for him.  
  
Or maybe he did notice him and he didn’t care. Maybe he did see him and he ignored him because Tobirama was nothing to him. Merely a distraction for when he had been locked up.  
  
Tobirama should have known better.  
  
Why would he be of any significance to a man like Madara Uchiha ? Did he really think they were friends or anything to begin with ?

* * *

The drive home was long and tedious. Tobirama was merely half aware of his surroundings, half aware of the red lights he ran and the cars honking at him. For he was feeling bad. So, so bad and his throat was tight and his belly hurt with anxiety and it didn’t take him long, when he slumped down on his couch to understand the feeling.  
  
Still. Why would he be feeling so heartbroken toward Madara ? There never was anything but a kind of long distance friendship between them, was there ?  
  
With a long sigh, Tobirama pushed everything away, he rubbed his face and shook his head. Alright, he thought, sitting up more properly and looking around himself. Maybe he did feel a bit more than friendship for Madara. Maybe he did like him a bit more than he always admitted to, maybe he did enjoy reading these letters and maybe, just maybe, he did think they could have been lovers. In another life, certainly. Especially now he had seen Madara in flesh and bones, he had looked unattainable. Hell, what kind of image they would have made together. With Madara looking so grandiose in his suit and Tobirama wearing an old pair of jeans and an even older shirt.  
  
Tobirama didn’t do much, this afternoon. Too lost in thoughts, questioning everything that happened for the past three years, wondering if he had been in such denial for all this time. Itama had seen the obvious truth, didn’t he ? Itama always was the smart one after all. It always had been so easy for him to read people and their feelings. He held so much empathy and Tobirama maybe should have listened to him more.  
  
Not that it would have helped his current situation, he still was kind of attached to the wrong guy but oh well.  
  
The knocking at his door half startled him awake. Tobirama wasn’t even sure he heard well, as he sat up on his couch, wiping the drool off his lips and trying to flatten the hair on his skull. He hadn’t noticed falling asleep but then again, he hadn’t slept much the previous night, with all that. He did need the rest. And he felt like he could sleep for days now, and he’d curse anyong waking him up before he was fully functional again.  
  
There was another knock, though and Tobirama, this time, registered it properly. He squinted at his front door, frowning lightly, then checked the hour on his phone. Eleven thirty. Almost the middle of the night and someone was knocking at his door. What the hell ?  
  
The man standing on the threshold of his house didn’t say a word when Tobirama stared at him without understanding. There was a dark car waiting in the street. Tobirama frowned. Then, the man handed him a phone.  
  
“Should I .. answer ?” Tobirama questioned, his brain slow from waking up like this and he cleared his throat when the man nodded. Tobirama turned away, blinking several times, confused, he pushed the phone against his ear. “Hello ?”  
  
“Hi Tobi.”  
  
The adrenaline rush caught Tobirama by surprise. He stumbled on his feet, managed not to bump into his front door by a hair’s length and he swallowed hard.  
  
He hadn’t expected to ever hear Madara’s voice like this. For all these years, written words had been their only mean of communication and it had been just fine. And he might have seen pictures of the man but pictures held no sound and Tobirama didn’t search videos of him, it would have been creepy. He tried imagining what Madara might sound like, from his looks, from the way he wrote but he realized, tonight, that he was far from the reality.  
  
Madara’s voice was deep and tempting. A treat to his ears and why was his heart rushing like this ? But he knew better and he tried not to scoff at how idiotic he might look.  
  
“Hi,” He eventually answered, not too eloquently and his tone rough because of how dry his throat was.  
  
“I’m sorry, I know it’s late but my brothers threw a little party for me,” Madara apologized to him and his tone sounded quite genuine. “I was … wondering if you would like to meet ?”  
  
Tobirama blinked owlishly. “Meet ? Tonight ?”  
  
“If you are up to it, yes,” Madara hummed softly, then he cleared his throat. “No obligation, though, we can meet any other time. If you want.”  
  
“No, no, I …” Tobirama closed his eyes. He was going to regret this. Probably and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would love to meet you.”  
  
There was a short silence. Then Madara released the air he had been holding. “My driver will take you to me,” he then stated.  
  
“Wait, I .. Do I have the time to ..” Shower, Tobirama wanted to say but it probably would be rude to have Madara wait like that. “Change ?”  
  
“Of course,” Madara snorted and he laughed lightly. “Take your time. See you soon.”  
  
With that, Madara hung up and Tobirama looked at the phone’s screen, blinking again. Then, he glanced at the driver, handed the phone back. “I’ll .. be right back,” he muttered. The man merely nodded at him, without a word again and he walked to his car, stood by the back passenger door, waiting.  
  
It took Tobirama more time to pick his clothes than to actually get ready. And he came to the painful realization that he owned nothing ever so slightly fancy. He did have a coupe of shirts but none of them had been ironed in years and they were all crumpled in his wardrobe, he only had jeans and a couple of pairs of sneakers. Shirts and sweaters and he settles for one that didn’t look too bad. He never exactly put any effort in dressing up, as his job barely ever required him to meet people and when he did, they came for his brain, not his looks.  
  
His messy hair would have to do, Tobirama thought as he gave up on brushing it, he splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth and he looked at his reflection in the mirror.  
  
Well. He didn’t look too awful, even with how tired as he was.  
  
Madara’s driver was patiently waiting for him, still standing on the same spot by the car’s side when Tobirama exited his home and locked the front door. The man opened the door for him, Tobirama slipped on the leather backseat, trying to ignore the many thoughts invading his mind. For he probably shouldn’t just enter a stranger car in the middle of the night, especially not after Madara’s invitation, seeing who the man was but here he was and was the seat heated up ? Now that was one hell of a level of comfort and Tobirama forced himself to relax, rubbing his moist palms on his thighs, looking outside the tinted windows as the man was driving him through the city from one end to the other.  
  
Then they exited the city and Tobirama started getting really nervous, wondering if he hadn’t been a little too trusting with this. If he shouldn’t just try asking to go back home and apologize and say he had changed his mind.  
  
That was until the car stopped and the driver opened his door and Tobirama carefully stepped out of the car, almost regretting he didn’t take a jacket as the night was cold now his butt wasn’t heated with the seat anymore. He shivered, looking around, wondering where he was. Had Madara asked his driver to take him to his place ? But he couldn’t see any building around, not even one. Only a gravel path climbing up the hill and Tobirama frowned, he looked back at the driver who nodded at him in encouragement.  
  
At least, he wasn’t feeling too cold anymore, Tobirama thought when he finally, finally reached the top of the hill. He was even almost too hot now and he kept cursing as there wasn’t enough light for him to see much, he could barely distinguish the gravel path from the surrounding grass with the moonlight. But all his grumbling stopped when he looked up and saw Madara, standing there near a bench, under a lamp post.  
  
Madara looked at him, his hair floating freely in the soft breeze, his lips pulling into a smile, wearing the same clothes as earlier but looking like an entire different person as he was staring at him and Tobirama cleared his throat. Standing there, three meters away, like the idiot he was. Not daring to come closer. Wondering why he was even there to begin with, in an unknown location with an Uchiha. And he rolled his eyes because he should have thought about this way earlier.  
  
“Hi,” Madara whispered, his traits relaxing with his smile, as he was pushing his gloved hands into his pockets.  
  
“Hi,” Tobirama rolled his eyes again. So very eloquent he was, tonight.  
  
“Come sit with me, Tobi,” Madara spoke, his tone so sweet it made Tobirama shiver. And Tobirama walked to him, he sat down on the cold bench and he looked at the view.  
  
It didn’t take Tobirama too long to realize where he was. That this was one of the place Madara had spoken about, in one of his letters, that one place in Konoha Madara would want to show him and here they were now, the same day Madara had been released, on that exact spot. Together.  
  
The view, though. Tobirama wasn’t sure he ever saw something so beautiful before. For it was one amazing view, as Konoha seemed to be lying at their feet, illuminated with hundreds of lights, the buildings going up in the sky, so vast it was all they could see and Tobirama was quick to understand why Madara liked this place so much. It was grandiose.  
  
They remained silent for a long time. The two of them sitting together, close enough that Tobirama could feel some heat radiating from Madara’s arm. Close enough that he could hear him breathing so distinctly, and the ruffling of his clothes as he shifted ever so slightly. It was ridiculous, not to talk, to just sit there in silence as if they were strangers to each other. They had three years of conversation together, after all, three years of getting to know each other, of sharing moments of their life, secrets, emotions, without much of a barrier. Three years and never thinking they might meet anytime soon as Madara’s time in prison should have been longer. Tobirama never even thought he’d meet Madara after he would be freed.  
  
But Madara had wanted to see him. He had organized this, whatever it was. This late night date, the exact moment he was free to see him after the party with his siblings was over, he had sent him his driver to take him to that place he had wanted to show him. And Tobirama wasn’t sure what to think of it. At all.  
  
“It feels good. To be out,” Madara eventually spoke, his voice low and his tone soft. A confession. Something he probably wouldn’t say to many others, Tobirama realized. “I was privileged, it’s easy to get what I want with a father like mine, but. It gets so lonely, sometimes.”  
  
Tobirama nodded. He couldn’t exactly say he knew how it felt, after all. But he could give some support. Maybe.  
  
“Your letters helped a lot, you know ?” Madara then looked up at him, dark eyes scanning him so intensely that it made Tobirama slightly uncomfortable. “To receive them on a regular basis, to write my answers. It kept me going, sometimes.”  
  
“Didn’t your brothers write you ?” Tobirama questioned, crossing his arms as he was getting a bit cold. “Didn’t you have a phone ?”  
  
Madara scoffed. “Of course I had a phone. How else was I supposed to manage my businesses if I hadn’t had one ?” he retorted, in fake offence, fighting his smile just for the sake of it. “I called them often enough. But it’s not the same as writing letters.”  
  
That, Tobirama could understand. Writing letters did have a strange appeal to it, one he hadn’t been able to resist, one he hadn’t been able to let go, even after three years of doing so. So, he smiled and he glanced at Madara.  
  
“This place is beautiful,” Tobirama said. Not even a whisper, he wasn’t sure Madara heard him but seeing the soft smile on his lips, he did. And he shifted closer, watching over Konoha.  
  
“I’ll show you many others, if you allow me to.”  
  
Tobirama looked at the other man in the eyes. He nodded. Madara's smile widened ever so slightly.  
  
It was strange, that they didn't talk too much. They weren't strangers, after all and Tobirama did write letters of several pages, and Madara answered with even longer ones, sometimes. Telling each other so much and yet, here, they barely talked. But there was a soft yearning for this silence down his guts, a soft need for this moment to go on for a long time. For them to just make the best of it. Words almost felt dumb, now they were together and Tobirama wanted to laugh with the slight embarrassment he was feeling.  
  
But he didn't laugh and he didn't move as he continued to look into Madara's dark eyes. Wondering how a man could look so different just hours apart. From how he had looked when Tobirama had watched him exit the prison, walking with determination, with that almost scary smile, a prestance so natural it made him shiver just to think of it again. To the softness he was showing him now, his small smile, his relaxed attitude and the easy confession he had made just before. Two different people, almost and Tobirama wasn't sure which he should trust.  
  
He'd keep the soft Madara if he could choose. But it didn't work like that, did it ?  
  
"You look .. exhausted," Madara eventually whispered, his tone worried and he held his hand up, grazed the side of Tobirama's head. It made Tobirama shiver so hard he wondered if he wasn't going to groan because of it.  
  
"I .. didn't sleep," Tobirama admitted, looking away. "I was asleep on my couch and your driver woke me up."  
  
"You .. could have said no," Madara sighed, then he smiled with a hint of embarrassment. "I could have waited another day for us to meet."  
  
But he didn't, Tobirama thought, rubbing his arm for warmth as the cold air was biting his skin again now he wasn't moving anymore. Madara had come for him right away. And here they were now.  
  
And now, Tobirama wasn't sure he could have waited, himself. It felt right, to meet.  
  
"Let's take you home," Madara eventually whispered, turning away, but holding out his hand for him to grab, to pull himself up. "We'll come again another night if you wish."  
  
The feel of the leather gloves on his fingers made Tobirama feel strange. He wasn't one for unnecessary contacts, it wasn't his thing to touch people without it to be needed and he sure as hell didn't need Madara's help to stand from that bench but he grabbed the offered hand anyways, the leather slightly creaking when Madara's fingers wrapped around his for an instant, and it was a bit cold, but Tobirama was more weirded out by the sensation than the coldness. It somehow felt so impersonal. And he wasn't sure he liked it.  
  
The walk down the hill was silent and Madara let go of his hand as soon as he was standing. Tobirama couldn't help but observe him from the corner of his eyes, and the same vibes from earlier returned. Madara's back was straight and he held his head high, his hair floating behind him like a cape. It made him look taller, almost. Or it was Tobirama feeling small by his side, he wasn't sure. It was as if they didn't belong to the same world and they didn't, for sure. But Tobirama regretted this meeting wouldn't last longer.  
  
The heated seats, though. These he cherished and Tobirama shifted several times with contentment when they settled in the car, the driver opening the door for them, he did his best not to hum in pleasure and he could feel the amusement radiating from Madara but merely glanced at him, daring him to make any comment. Madara was wearing one thick coat after all, and several layers of clothes. Tobirama hadn't exactly expected an outdoor meeting. He hadn't dressed for one. He was allowed to be cold.  
  
Madara walked him to his door. They hadn't talked during the ride, Madara had leaned against the window, looking outside thoughtfully and Tobirama had stolen glances toward him. Wondering if Madara always was so silent. Wondering where was the man that had told him so much in his letters. Then again, writing was an easier mean of communication for certain people. It was only surprising it was Madara's case, considering who he was. Which family he belonged to.  
  
"Do you want to come in ?"  
  
The question seemed to surprise Madara, who stared at him for an instant, tilted his head to the side slightly. But he didn't hesitate long.  
  
"It'll be my pleasure."  
  
Madara was quite curious. It was obvious, the moment he stepped in and looked around himself to take the house's interior in quickly. And his eyes settled on several things. The laptop on the coffee table, the shelves with the movies he sent him to watch, the different albums as well. The birthday card he sent him a couple of months ago that Tobirama had put on display on one of the shelves. This one made him smile and he looked at Tobirama again, a hint of teasing glinting in his eyes.  
  
Tobirama ignored him, fixing himself a quick cup of tea for the warmth and offering Madara one.  
  
"I won't sleep if I drink tea," Madara politely refused. Tobirama shrugged and headed for the couch, motioning at the man to do the same.  
  
It was with a lot of comfort that Madara left his coat and his shoes by the front door. Not caring for how weird it was to see a man in a suit walking in his socks in a place that didn't look anything fancy and he made himself comfortable on the creaky couch, one leg folded underneath himself so he was half turned to Tobirama.  
  
Tobirama noticed the lack of gloves immediately, wondering when Madara had taken them off. He didn't ask.  
  
"I .. came to the prison earlier," Tobirama eventually confessed. He had had the words on the tip of his tongue from the moment he had seen Madara earlier. His brain asking for answers, for a resolution of all the questions he had. He did feel bad a lot after all. Worse than he should have, probably.  
  
"I know," was Madara's soft, breathed answer and he shifted closer, even if slightly. "It touched me a lot," he added with a kind smile.  
  
"You saw me ?"  
  
Madara shook his head. "I didn't, sadly. I would have come right to you if I had. I was informed of your presence."  
  
Tobirama frowned. He looked into Madara's eyes, hoping it'd be enough for more details.  
  
"You don't want to know."  
  
"Do you have people following me ?" Tobirama questioned and he wasn't quite all comfortable anymore. "I noticed that weird guy with the ponytail looking at me several times when I was downtown. Is he one of your men ?"  
  
"I .." Madara hesitated. Taken aback with the questions, it seemed. With the roughness in his tone but Tobirama wasn't scared. Not of Madara anyways.  
  
"I had to .. put a statement," Madara admitted and he grimaced slightly. "It would have been easy for people to target you, hadn't I warned them that you were protected. You would have been an easy way to reach me. I couldn't allow it."  
  
Tobirama blinked. Then he looked up again.  
  
It was sometimes difficult to remember who Madara really was. When he spoke of the things he loved, when he expressed feelings of loneliness, when he was so passionate about the beautiful places he saw in his life and how he wanted Tobirama to see them as well, how he wanted to show him the way he did tonight with the bench with the amazing view on Konoha.  
  
Tobirama knew he never was careful enough with him. The people in charge of the program warned him lengthy about it. How he shouldn't share too much, how he shouldn't put too much trust in his pen pal, how the person he would be paired with was a criminal and that he shouldn't forget it.  
  
But he didn't do too good on this point. Hell, he should have told them right away about the laptop and the gifts that followed. About how Madara had managed to find his address and send him all these things. They probably knew, from having read the letters. Or they didn't. The rules did say they would but surely, they would have intervened, had they noticed this, no ? They didn't, though.  
  
And, right here, right then, Tobirama was reminded of who Madara really was. The heir of the Uchiha family and its empire. The family who ended the war between the different clans in the city twenty years ago, shedding so much blood in Konoha's streets.  
  
"Am I in danger ?"  
  
Madara looked at him in the eyes for a long time and Tobirama knew he was searching a lie to answer. It was obvious in the way he was hesitating, how tense his body was, as he was struggling against the idea as well.  
  
"Not anymore," was Madara's answer. His tone harder, his voice deeper. Gone was the softness. Now Tobirama was facing the other side of Madara, the Uchiha and he wasn't sure what to think.  
  
What did Madara do, to keep him safe ?  
  
"A statement," Madara spoke again, as if reading his thoughts and he lowered his eyes for a second. "One of my guys following you for a couple of weeks so our rivals would know you are not to be messed with. Nothing more."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me I could be at risk ?"  
  
Madara snorted. "Wasn't it obvious enough ? I'm not exactly any prisoner. I told you who I was."  
  
"Am I safe now ?" Tobirama frowned, ignoring Madara's amusement.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Tobirama released the breath he hadn't know he was holding, his shoulders hunching, he rubbed his forehead. Madara shifted closed, until his knee was touching his thigh and he reached for the nape of his neck in a soft caress, for comfort.  
  
"I will not involve you in my life. Not this part of my life anyways," Madara was quick to precise, his fingers so warm on Tobirama's skin that he was shivering. "I had to do this, for your safety and I chose a man I can trust entirely. You have nothing to fear. Nothing at all."  
  
"You could have warned me," Tobirama huffed, glancing at the other man.  
  
"The main rule in my life is to keep my activities, whichever they are, discreet," Madara whispered. "Writing about them in a letter that would most likely be read by officials wasn't discreet."  
  
"They didn't react when I spoke of the gifts."  
  
"Ah well," Madara smile with too many teeth for a second. "I did have some means to make them look away. And sending someone a gift is nothing illegal."  
  
"What about the cops ? Won't they keep an eye on me, as we are acquainted ?"  
  
Madara smiled again, fondly, almost admiring Tobirama's brain for an instant and he shrugged.  
  
"Most likely. But as I said, I will not involve you in that part of my life. They might try attain me using you but they won't find anything."  
  
It took a moment for Tobirama to relax again. Madara's fingers on in skin did help, of course. But his words, mainly. For this was the first time they could openly discuss who Madara was, how his life was. But at least, Madara knew what he was doing with this. And he was willing to protect him against his rivals and he wouldn't put him in danger. Tobirama couldn't exactly ask for more from a friend like him.  
  
"I probably should go," Madara spoke after a short silence, he stopped touching him, he straightened his back slowly. "You are tired and you probably have a lot to think about now."  
  
He did, Tobirama acknowledged with a nod. For he wasn't scared, he wasn't uncomfortable at the moment but it was a lot to take in for a man like him. It was one foreign world after all, one he didn't want to come close to but it would mean keeping his distances with Madara as well. And it had been easy enough when Madara had been locked up but. It wasn't the case anymore and if he had learned something tonight, it was how much he might yearn for Madara's presence.  
  
Three years of sort of long distance friendship did that, he thought. And he couldn't help feel close with this man either.  
  
Madara stood, he headed for the front door and Tobirama followed. His cup of tea on the coffee table gone cold and he hadn't even touched it, only a small lamp turned on in the flat, just enough light for them to see each other. Tobirama watched, as the man pulled his phone from his pocket, checking who knew what. Then, Madara looked up, he looked at him in the eyes and he felt it.  
  
How stupid he had been. How entirely too idiotic and he was breathless and his knees felt weak under his weight. How wrong, as well and gods, couldn't he just hide in shame now ? Couldn't he rewind to when Madara offered him to meet and tell him it might not be a good idea? Or to wait another day ?  
  
Because he could see it oh so clearly now. Exhausted as he was, his emotions so raw, so easily discernible and he fooled himself for all that time without ever noticing. And it had needed only one meeting, and a short one at that, for him to actually get it.  
  
Madara huffed, an amused smile on the lips when he stepped closer. When he placed a hand at the back of his neck and kissed him. Hard and deep. Passionate and greedy and Tobirama kissed back, his hands on the other's hips.  
  
Of course he was in love with that guy. How couldn't he be ?  
  
"Took you long enough," Madara teased, whispering on his lips, curious hands stroking his hair as he was kissing him again.  
  
"Excuse you," Tobirama huffed, and he leveled Madara with a strong gaze that probably didn't intimidate Madara the slightest. "I'm not exactly an expert here."  
  
"That you aren't. I really thought you were ignoring my hint on purpose. Turns out you can't notice what's right in front of you."  
  
Tobirama huffed again but didn't answer. How could he ever realize this kind of thing ? That what had started with innocent letters had turned into something deeper, way more meaningful and absolutely not platonic after a while. That Madara had fallen for him and had come to him right when he was freed because of it and wanted to show him all these things because he was in love. Tobirama wasn't an expert indeed, having had only a couple of short relationships before. Hell, he truly only thought that he and Madara merely were good friends.  
  
He realized his mistake the moment Madara had looked at him on the eyes so intensely. They never had a soft of long distance friendship. They had a sort of long distance relationship. No wonder he had felt so bad when Madara didn't notice him earlier. No wonder it had felt like a heartbreak.  
  
"Do you want to spend the night ?"  
  
His question seemed to take Madara aback. He pulled back, slightly, so he could look at him in the eyes with a slight frown, he tilted his head to the side.  
  
"You only have one bedroom," he answered and Tobirama rolled his eyes. Of course Madara knew how small his home was, of course he knew he only had one bedroom.  
  
"My bed is big enough for the two of us," Tobirama retorted. Which could be interpreted many ways but he hoped Madara wouldn't get the wrong idea. This wasn't an offer for anything but a good night of sleep after all. The day had been a tiring one, full of emotions and coming to terms with feelings he had all but unconsciously ignored for all that time was slowly draining his last strength. He needed to rest. And he'd be happy if Madara shared this with him tonight.  
  
"It'll be my pleasure Tobi."  
  
The bedroom was small, at the back of the little house and Tobirama led Madara there. Then he started to undress, folding his clothes and placing them down on the near chair by the window, he glanced at Madara for him to do the same.  
  
Madara merely had the time to wish him a good night before he passed out from his tiredness. Kissing his forehead, the two of them lying under the blankets in their underwear, Tobirama on his back and Madara propped up on one elbow. Tobirama did feel the kiss and he felts the softness and gentleness of Madara's hand on his chest, a soft caress to help him relax.  
  
He was dead to the world the next minute.

* * *

Waking up to Madara's soft dark eyes staring at him and his smile was a treat Tobirama hadn't know he needed in his life. He groaned, hiding his face in his arms, against his pillow as Madara was chuckling lightly, his cheeks heating up ever so slightly and he shivered when Madara decided to kiss him behind the ear, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and resting his weight against his side without much shame.  
  
"How can you ever get cuter ?" Madara teased, his voice deep against his ear and his tone amused. "I can have breakfast delivered if you're hungry."  
  
"Shut up," Tobirama grumbled, half not believing the situation. He hadn't expected Madara to still be in bed when he'd wake up. Surely, Madara was a busy man, with his businesses…. Especially now he was out of prison. And yet, here he was, with no apparent intention to leave just yet. "I don't want to eat. I want to stay in bed."  
  
"I'm fine with that."  
  
They did just that. Lying there, Tobirama on his belly, Madara against him, so close, so comfortable. Lips finding sweet spots on his neck and shoulders, fingers playing with his until Madara was holding both his hands. Madara's hair everywhere. Soft chuckles when Tobirama leaned into the touch and Madara hummed in answer. Such a soft moment, just the two of them, tender as the sun was rising and Tobirama wondering if it could ever become a routine.  
  
Probably not. He knew better but to think Madara would spend all his nights by his side. But one could hope.  
  
"Now, Tobi, tell me. Are you free the next couple of weeks ? Because I'd love taking you someplace nice. Someplace warm."  
  
Tobirama sighed, and he didn’t want to move much, too comfortable as he was but he did anyways. Rolling to his back, but keeping Madara close, so he could look at him in the eyes without having to crane his neck or look at him from the corner of his eyes and he ran his fingers through his hair, enjoying their silk-like touch, despite the kinks he found there. No wonder, considering Madara didn’t braid it for the night. Hashirama usually did.  
  
He didn’t have the time to answer, though, as Madara’s lips found his neck again, his jaw in butterfly kisses, and he closed his eyes, shivering hard at the sensations ruling over his body. He was so relaxed, so comfortable with the man and he didn’t want the moment to end.  
  
And so, of course, it was brought to an end when he heard the front door of his home being unlocked and someone invite himself in. Tobirama sighed, rubbing his forehead, already fighting the incoming headache, ignoring the soft chuckle coming from the man half sprawled on top of him and he didn’t even look up when he heard Itama’s voice.  
  
“Tobi ? You still in bed ?”  
  
The bedroom door opened and Tobirama looked up at his brother with a lazy frown. He wasn’t exactly angry at him, he did tell his brothers to come whenever they wanted. But he would have enjoyed a little more time with Madara. Madara who didn’t seem to care, as he placed his head down on his shoulder and smiled widely.  
  
“Hi Itama,” he slightly waved, unweaving his fingers from his hair for a second just to do so and Tobirama wasn’t surprised Madara knew his brother’s name. He did mention them before. And Madara seemed to be the type of person to know things anyways. “Want to share breakfast with us ? In, say, fifteen minutes ?”  
  
Itama snorted, not caring for the situation, not minding anything he was seeing. They most likely looked naked from his point of view, all snuggled in bed like that. Tobirama didn’t dare thinking what his brother might thought they did during the night. And, anyways, he did whatever he wanted, didn’t he ?  
  
“Sure,” He waved a hand lazily, then shrugged. “Sorry if I interrupted anything.”  
  
“No harm done,” was Madara answer and Tobirama rolled his eyes. Was this scene even real ? Itama knew who Madara was, he knew his family and yet acted so casually. And Madara answered on the same tone. It almost felt wrong.  
  
But, the moment the door was closed and Itama out of sight, Madara wrapped both arms around his neck, humming as he stretched, kissing his cheek gently.  
  
“You didn’t answer,” he mumbled, nuzzling his jaw lazily. “Someplace warm ? Just the two of us ?”  
  
Tobirama sighed, in a overacted determination, he glanced at the other man, amused with his easy tone. Someplace nice and warm without brothers to interrupt did sound quite tempting. Some place where they’d be able to learn more about each other. How to interact, how to behave. And he trusted Madara, he did. Hell, he probably was the safest by this man’s side, was he ? Madara did send someone to look over him, to make sure he wouldn’t be bother after all, and even with how weird it was, Tobirama understood the gesture. And he knew it might not be easy sometimes, he knew it could become a nightmare under the right circumstances but … He knew Madara. Not the heir of the Uchiha family. The man who wrote him all these letters, who wanted to meet him so much he couldn’t wait another day, the one who spoiled him rotten just because he could, asking nothing in return.  
  
“Count me in,” Tobirama eventually answered and his answered was welcomed with a soft kiss, as well as a bright smile.  
  
Itama didn’t make any comment, when they finally left the bedroom, fifteen minutes later. He merely sat at the kitchen table, making himself home and sipping a cup of tea and he chatted with Madara casually, as they ate breakfast together, enjoying the amazing food Madara got delivered to the house for the occasion.  
  
He did offered his big brother a “Told you so” glance when Madara had his back to them. Tobirama ignored him. And he spent the rest of the day ignoring the many texts he received from his other brothers when, en reliatment, Itama told them about the hot guy he found with him in bed in the morning. It was easy, though.  
  
Madara proved himself to be one hell of a distraction after all.


End file.
